


To Share a Lifetime

by fullmetal_64



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I don't know how tags work, Lore Speculation, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Spoilers for Verdant Wind, Suffering, domestic fluff (eventually), will add more tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetal_64/pseuds/fullmetal_64
Summary: “My love, I know your heart is troubled, but you have given me happiness more than enough to fill a hundred lifetimes over. Thank you. I love you.”“Please, don’t leave me, my light. I love you! I’ll find you a cure! I promise...”And just like that, before she even has the time or strength to respond to the love of her life, she breathes her last. Byleth’s tears fall, and his words fail him. The light of Byleth’s life, a light far brighter than any glow that his Sword of the Creator has glowed, has died.“My light, I promise...”Byleth steadies his breathing.I have the power of the Progenitor God. I have to try again. I have to fulfill my promise to Lysithea.*****The war is over and Byleth and Lysithea are together as King and Queen of Fódlan, but Byleth has not been able to find a cure for Lysithea's Crests. How far will he go to save Lysithea from her ailing body?
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. The Same Morning, Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This fic was conceptualized based off of the paired ending of Byleth and Lysithea, and I asked myself "What if Byleth had to use the Divine Pulse to jump back in time to find a cure for his ailing wife?", and then took it another step further and said "What if he had to use it multiple times after each of Lysithea's deaths to send him back to just after the war ended (at the Goddess tower) so that he could try over and over again until the physical and mental toll from his exertion of the Goddess's powers broke him?"
> 
> Yes. I like to suffer. This is also my first work of (published) fanfiction, so I'd greatly appreciate constructive criticism. I do have a few more chapters planned out for the future, but I can't gauge exactly how long the finished work will be. I'll be telling the story from multiple perspectives, and so far, I've planned out Byleth, Sothis, and Lysithea.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and do leave a comment if you do! (also, the tagging system is really robust, and I'm not used to it yet, sorry about that!)

The sun peeks out from the horizon, bathing the Ordelia manor in the morning light. House Ordelia’s manor is small for a noble family’s standards, but it is kept immaculately and is free from most of the frivolity that is all too commonplace for the nobles of Fódlan. As of late, the manor has served mostly as a summer retreat for King Byleth Eisner and his wife, Lysithea von Ordelia-Eisner, rather than the home of Ordelia’s scion, as the King and his family spend most of their days in the royal courts of the United Kingdom.

Byleth opens his eyes, which are greeted by the ceiling of the master’s bedroom in House Ordelia’s manor. The ceiling is perfectly white, gilded with gold along its borders. The coving, where the ceiling meets the wall, is lavender. He is reminded of the robes that the nobles of House Ordelia wore after the war. When he closes his eyes momentarily to shut off the sun’s rays, he sees Lysithea by his side, clad in her lavender Warlock robes, casting spells against hordes of the Empire’s soldiers. He opens his eyes just as quickly as he closed them; feeling like his heart had just been afflicted with Miasma.

The green-haired King sits himself up, and turns his head listlessly to the right, looking through the window, which reaches to the ceiling, allowing the beautiful morning sun to illuminate the immaculate room. Colorful birds flit in and out of view of the window, flying from their nests to the marble feeders scattered throughout the Ordelia manor garden. The sky is clear, and perfectly blue, mirrored in the pond in the garden, where swans glide through the mirror surface, creating tiny ripples through the ephemeral scene. Under normal circumstances, the scene would be beautiful, almost paradisiacal, but for Byleth, who has seen the same scene countless times, his heart sinks, as he clutches at the sheets beside him, which are empty.

It’s the morning after Lysithea was laid to rest in the Ordelia family grave, next to her parents’ graves. Lysithea died at the age of 32, a mere twelve years after the war with the Empire was ended by Claude’s Alliance, and Fódlan was united as the United Kingdom of Fódlan. All things considered, Lysithea was lucky to have lived another twelve years past the end of the war because of the great physical toll and mental pressure she had placed on herself in order to aid the Alliance in ending the war as swiftly as humanly possible. More than that, she was lucky to have outlived her parents, whom she had thought would outlive her. This thought had brought her much pain and anxiety, and although the death of her parents to the weakness of their hearts wounded her deeply, she was altogether relieved to think that her parents would not have to live through the heartbreak of watching their beloved daughter die before their own deaths.

Again, he had failed. He had failed to cure Lysithea of her ailment – the two Crests that gave her immense power at the cost of her body’s vitality – and return her to her original state. He had seen the coffin containing the body of his beloved lowered into the ground tens, if not hundreds of times by now. He had seen the same beautiful morning after his greatest loss the same number of times. Somehow, it never got easier. Tears still flowed from his eyes, just as much as when he lost his father to the machinations of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Tears still flowed from his eyes, just as much as when he first lost the love of his life to the cruelty of the past.

* * *

He remembers each and every one of Lysithea’s deaths, just as vividly as the last, and just as vividly as the first time she died as his Queen. It was a beautiful morning just like this, in a life lived hundreds of years and lifetimes ago. He and his Queen were sharing tea and her favorite sweets in the Ordelia manor garden as they had grown accustomed to over the years, when suddenly, Lysithea started coughing blood. And then, her body fell limp, and she slumped over the garden chair.

The next day, Lysithea is unconscious. The day after, Lysithea wakes Byleth, who had fallen asleep watching over her, seated beside their bed in the manor to give him her parting words. Her words are weak, but soft, tender, and filled with happiness.

“My love, I know your heart is troubled, but you have given me happiness more than enough to fill a hundred lifetimes over. Thank you. I love you.”

“Please, don’t leave me, my light. I love you! I’ll find you a cure! I promise...”

And just like that, before she even has the time or strength to respond to the love of her life, she breathes her last. Byleth’s tears fall, and his words fail him. The light of Byleth’s life, a light far brighter than any glow that his Sword of the Creator has glowed, has died.

“My light, I promise...”

* * *

Byleth steadies his breathing.

_I have the power of the Progenitor God. I have to try again. I have to fulfill my promise to Lysithea._

Drawing his body to the side of the bed close to the window, Byleth stands up. The widower-King closes his eyes in concentration, commanding time to stop, and ordering the world to fall away. When he opens his eyes, the fabric of reality around him warps. As though looking through the reflection of a mirror shattered with unimaginable force, the world around him falls away, revealing the void of space; a plane of darkness filled with nothing but the light of stars and supernovae from millions of miles away, where only he remains.

Suspended time is beautiful, but it is a sight that Byleth dreads to see. The only time he has ever had to use the power of the Progenitor God was to stop someone he cared for from dying. This is no different. At this point, he has seen the same emptiness hundreds of times, enough to fill his mind with the beauty of it all when he closes his eyes. But something seems different. In the distance, he sees a familiar figure: a small girl, with long, flowing robes and gold ornamentation all over her body. Her hair is a shock of the most vivid green, almost alive like the verdant mountainsides of Fódlan. Her face is saintly and graceful, yet childlike in innocence.

Byleth had not seen Her in so long, his mouth fell agape at the sight of the Goddess.

“Sothis?”


	2. A Goddess’s Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sothis summons Byleth and confronts him about his use of the Divine Pulse in his repeated failed attempts to save the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from the dead. I hope anyone who's read the first chapter and was waiting for an update, only to be left for almost 6 months can bring it in them to forgive me for this delay. If anyone's interested to hear about why I was gone for so long, there's more in the notes at the end. There's also more about this chapter at the end.
> 
> Anyway, after stepping away from writing this fic for so long, my vision of the story has evolved past my original vision and intention for this story. I am really, really intrigued about the Nabatean/Agarthan and Crest/blood aspects of the lore, and after replaying the game and reading a whole load of supports and chapter scripts for research for this fic, I got super invested and I want to find ways to incorporate those elements of the lore and story into this fic. I also didn't quite like how the Verdant Wind route was handled, and it just feels... unfinished? Hence, there'll be much more drama, lore speculation, mystery, and maybe even thriller elements down the line, in addition to the sappy romance-y stuff (and that sweet, sweet angst). Hope you'll continue to stay tuned to the story! Enjoy! :D

The darkness of space in suspended time is nothing like the eternal darkness of the realm of Zahras where Solon once banished Byleth and Sothis to. In suspended time, the space around Sothis is dark like a starry night sky, filled with the celestial light of stars from unimaginable distances away; warm and full, unlike the empty void of that realm where Byleth and Sothis were joined together. And yet, for how warm and full the universe appears in the vastness of suspended time, without Byleth to fill the void, to Sothis, it is empty.

Sothis never departed from Byleth’s side, and though they could no longer speak, she was with him – in him – watching every step that he took after that day when they joined souls. When the war was ended, Sothis held on to a selfish hope that Byleth would not take a bride in order to focus on his new role as the sovereign of Fódlan, and that, perhaps, he would even swear her an oath to walk with her to the end of time at his death.

And yet, it was not meant to be. 

The Progenitor God never departed from Byleth’s side, and she being with him – in him – watched him fall deeper and deeper for the white-haired girl who was once his student. When the war was ended, Sothis had to let go of her selfish hope that Byleth would walk with her to the end of time as she watched Lysithea take the ring she hoped would be hers and swear a vow to Byleth as his bride.

For as powerful as she was, it was never meant to be.

A goddess without any power over a mortal: how foolish. How much more powerful was his love than her desire?

Still, it pained Sothis to see her beloved suffer so, struggling to find a cure for Lysithea, a personage she had grown to love herself after seeing how tenderly she loved Byleth back. And so, summoning Byleth, she extends the kindness of a goddess, offering her wisdom to the fraught king.

“You are a fool!” 

And her words come out the same way they always do, flustered and scathing when faced with Byleth’s all-too-human face. Sothis berates herself in her own mind, _no,_ you _are a fool! You summon your inheritor for the first time in centuries and the first thing you call him is_ fool!

Byleth walks forward to meet Sothis, closing the distance between them. His footsteps leave ripples in the mirror-glass surface of the infinity of the goddess’s realm. Sothis has to prevent herself from recoiling at Byleth’s movement toward her, calming her heart from racing any faster.

“Why have you summoned me so?” Byleth asks her, his brow furrowed, the way that it does when he is lost deep in thought. “It’s been so long since we last spoke, I had thought that you departed from me.”

“Hmph! I have never departed from your side. Did I not say that I would always be with you? Fool...” Sothis pouts.

“I am sorry, goddess, it’s just that... After so long, I had not expected to see you again.”

“And you would have liked it if I had just vanished?”

“No, no... On the contrary, I am relieved to see your face after living through the same few years centuries over. Truth be told... I am in need of your wisdom.” Byleth’s gaze is downcast, and looks almost defeated.

The goddess feels her heart jump from hearing how Byleth was relieved to see her, but she suppresses that feeling – is it hope? Or just wishful thinking? – by looking away from Byleth’s eyes. When she calms her breathing and brings herself to meet his gaze again, her heart sinks.

Despite Byleth’s appearance remaining unchanged even after his repeated use of the Divine Pulse, the green-haired former professor looks like he has matured at least several decades’ worth of time. Even his way of speaking had matured, perhaps from his courtly duties as sovereign of Fódlan, Sothis surmises, _since when has he ever called me goddess?_

Sothis steels herself with determination and steadies herself.

“You are in luck. I have summoned you precisely because I would like to offer you a goddess’s wisdom. I have watched you suffer for your beloved, and I know you have reached an impasse in your search for a cure. I may be able to offer something of use to you.”

Byleth’s eyes widen, and the fire in his eyes returns. “For real? I mean... truly? Oh, I’m so damned stupid! Of course you’d know something! Why didn’t I think to call you?”

“And to think that you were the one to end the war... Perhaps I overestimated your ability.” Sothis teases, seeing that some of Byleth’s youthful vigor has returned to his face.

“Please don’t tease me... But truly, is there a way to give back Lysithea her life?” Byleth’s voice cracks a tiny bit, revealing a hint of desperate hope. “I’ve tried again and again, and yet nothing that I or the court Crest scholars do seem to have any lasting effect on her Crests. It’s like... Like a curse has attached itself to her body.”

“Remember that Crests are blood. They are my blood, and the blood of my children manifested into power. Truthfully, even I am not privy to all the secrets of the Crests or their power, but I know this much: you must find a way to purge her blood of the power it holds in excess.”

“How do you propose that I go about doing that?” Byleth’s voice is earnest, almost trembling at the prospect of a chance at finally progressing in his search for an end to Lysithea’s curse.

Sothis’s eyes narrow, and her brow furrows. The goddess is lost in thought.

“Forgive me, but I do not know. The truth behind the existence of Lysithea’s Crests is unnatural, and the method by which they were forced into her vessel is an abomination, to say the least. I would not know, as this is taboo even I had not dared cross.”

“I should have known... Those slippery bastards and their blood experiments!” Byleth growls through his teeth. Sothis flinches at Byleth’s frustration, which the latter catches on to. “I’m sorry, I lost composure for a second. Are you telling me that we’re back to square one?”

“No. I know each one of my descendants by the blood that flows in their veins. Do you recall the boy who bore Cethleann’s Crest?”

“I do. You mean Linhardt? He was taken as prisoner after Fort Merceus was taken. I released him and offered him a position as a Crest Scholar in the court with Hanneman. Why do you ask this of me?” Byleth raises his eyebrow, bringing his hand to his chin as if to think.

“If my hunch is correct, there is something... not quite right about your student.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that his blood seems to be... fading. Distant? I can sense it, but only faintly.”

Byleth scratches his chin, and commits himself to his thoughts. After a brief moment of thinking, he raises his head and meets Sothis’s eyes. “Why do you tell me this? He should still be with Hanneman in the research institute.”

Sothis shakes her head. “Do you not realize? This Linhardt boy was one of the brightest among your students, and certainly the one with the most knowledge of Crests! What more, your student possesses the Crest of Cethleann, which is a particularly rare and special Crest, even among Crests.”

“I know this, but in all my lifetimes, no cure was ever created, even with the combined genius of Professor Hanneman and Linhardt. Again, why do you tell me this?”

The goddess groans. “Are you a Fortress Knight? Are you dull and slow and dense like one of those hulking meat shields? Think!”

“It doesn’t make sense... It doesn’t make sense... unless...”

Something in Byleth’s head clicks, and as if struck with Thoron, inspiration comes to him. His eyes illuminate with understanding, and his mouth is left agape at the stunning realization. Sothis smiles and chuckles at his reaction.

“So you’ve finally realized it, have you?”

Byleth inhales deeply, bringing his hands to his temples as if to soothe an ache that had just formed in his head. After trying to make sense of the Crest Scholar’s repeated failed attempts over the course of multiple alternate realities, it seems that Byleth has collected a piece that had been missing all along – one that he did not know was even missing in the first place. In spectacular fashion, with the answer supplied to him by a literal goddess, the widower-King has now moved one step closer to lengthening the wick of his light’s life.

Happy as he may be, however, Sothis must dampen that newfound hope with news that is just as crushing as his new realizations are affirming. The goddess brings her hands close to her chest and lowers her head to prepare herself to deliver the message to the now-hopeful Byleth.

The repeated use of the Divine Pulse to rewind time for years at a time each time Byleth lost Lysithea has put an immense strain on the reserves of godly power that he has access to. Because Sothis and Byleth’s souls are joined, she is fully cognizant of the amount of power that he has consumed – and how much power is left for him to consume. His nigh reckless expenditure of his inherited powers has nearly depleted the vast stores of energy within him, and Sothis’s tether on his soul has also grown weaker as a result. Sothis knows that he may only be able to use the power to shatter time one last time, and no more, lest he kill himself from the stress of drawing power from where there is none left.

Once again, Sothis steels herself with determination to make Byleth decide his fate.

“I tell you this, and yet your time and power are limited. You have been a fool, wasting away the power of a god to save your beloved. This power to shatter time and return to the past is finite, and by all means the only way to exhaust a goddess’s unlimited power. I understand you know what this means?”

The brightness of Byleth’s face does not disappear, and his eyes remain hopeful. His mouth curls into a gentle smile, as though he understands full well the implications of his actions.

“I understand. Recently, I have felt our shared power to lose potency. I suspect that my use of your godly powers is nearing its end, is it not?”

The goddess’s eyes are solemn in agreement. “This may be the last time you will ever be able to rewind time. Any more and you bear great risk of dying from the exertion. You will have to choose.”

Sothis must make him decide. The selfish side of the goddess wants him to stop trying, to continue living his life without Lysithea by his side, and rejoin her centuries later when he has outlived the body of a half-god. She wants to stop seeing him suffer, to finally rest after trying – and failing – time and again.

Sothis must make him decide. The selfless side of the goddess also wants him to keep trying, to continue searching until he can live a full life with Lysithea by his side, for them to depart this world together, when both of them have outlived their mortal bodies. Just as much, she wants to see him succeed, to find rest with the person he loves above all, after all his suffering.

More than anything, she wants Byleth to be happy.

“Decide now, you can choose to continue living until you meet Lysithea again at the end of your life, or try again without any assurance of success. You may stop suffering, or thrust yourself once more into uncertainty. After the death of your father, I told you that a death that could not be prevented by turning back the hands of time was the work of fate. What will you do? Would you truly try to defy a fate?”

Sothis’s words come out sharp and curt, making sure to let the full weight of the decision bear down on Byleth through her question. Even before Byleth answers, however, she knows deep in her heart what his answer is.

Byleth’s eyes are apologetic, and he looks upon Sothis’s face gently.

“You already know how stupid I can be.”

The goddess sheds a single tear, but she cannot help but to find herself smiling.

“You truly are a fool...”

Byleth closes his eyes, and begins to will himself back in time, causing the mirror-glass surface of suspended time around him to shatter and fall away, revealing the plane of mortals behind him.

“Goodbye, Sothis. I know you will be watching me.”

“I will forever be with you.”

Byleth falls backward, as if being sucked into a black hole, leaving behind the goddess in her own plane, alone. Again.

_So it was never meant to be..._

Sothis turns her back on where Byleth was stood, and continues to walk alone, onward to the end of time, cursed to watch the king’s struggles in her mind’s eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you married Sothis in the game, you might have caught on that this chapter was inspired by the Byleth/Sothis S-support. I patterned the Sothis in this chapter after the Sothis in said S-support. I really liked the idea of Sothis falling in love with Byleth's character, only to have him slip away because she can't actually be with him physically. The tragedy of watching the person you love fall in love with someone else before your very eyes while you are literally powerless to do anything about it? Chef's kiss. Anyway, when I was writing the skeleton of this chapter almost 5 months ago, I originally intended for this to just be an info dump-y kind of chapter where Sothis tells Byleth about the stakes and sets the tone for when Byleth returns to just after the end of the war, maybe a little comic relief with Sothis's animated interactions with Byleth. But when I came back to this fic, I did more research to get inspiration for where I wanted to take the story and yeah, after watching and reading the Byleth/Sothis S-support, my brain went BRRRR and cranked this out. If you have comments or constructive criticism or anything to say, really, I would gladly accept them!
> 
> About why I was gone (TW; anxiety): I wrote the first chapter of this fic around the time when online university was still manageable for me. Things progressively got worse. By the second week of April, I refused to touch my Switch out of the anxiety that online university was creating for me. I also could not, at the time, do anything for recreation except play League (which, let's be honest, is it really even recreation?) due to my anxiety. This continued until late July, and I was only able to pick up the Switch and begin playing games without my anxiety from school killing me around then. In the end, I've decided to take a break from college until I can go back to attending classes face-to-face. Times are rough, still, but delving back into this passion project does help!


	3. Memories of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, and Lysithea decides to take a stroll around Garreg Mach Monastery, reminiscing the days of her youth and memories of her beloved. She is taken back to the day of her reunion with Byleth on her way to the Goddess Tower...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today!! Have a mega-chapter as a birthday treat :DD I haven't started drafting out chapter 4, so the next update might not come as fast as this did. I do have two one-shot fanfics ready to upload (one FE3H fic and one FE8 fic), so stay tuned to my profile for them! I'll be uploading them within the week. 
> 
> As per usual, there's more about this chapter in the notes at the end. Over the past week, I've decided to look for mutuals on Twitter, so let me just plug the Twitter that I'll be associating with this account. I also made a Ko-fi in case any one of you beautiful readers want to leave me a tip, since I'm out of college and without any way to generate income. Follow me on one or the other, or on both!
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/fuwametal_  
> Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/fuwametalfics

Just a few days ago, Lysithea and her former classmates were fighting for their lives, caught in a battle that would forever be remembered by history as the moment that Fódlan would permanently bury its storied, yet atrocious past in favor of a newer, brighter future. It felt unreal, fighting against Nemesis, who, along with his Ten Elites, had usurped the power of a god and her children centuries ago, which would inadvertently create the Crest system of nobility and aristocracy that had caused her so much suffering.

With the Hero’s Relic Thyrsus in hand, she blasted spell after spell at the last of those abhorrent bastards who subjected her to those repugnant experiments, and the ancient monstrosities that they had brought back from the dead. With the light of her dark magic, she carved her name into the minds of the ranks of the adversary’s army, who trembled in fear of her magic’s sheer power. She wanted to make sure that they would never forget the name of the monster they created when they decided to defile that terrified little girl’s blood, deep in a dungeon some years ago in Ordelia territory.

Truthfully, Lysithea played a key role in defeating Nemesis, as she summoned the power of moonlight, channeling Luna on the King of Liberation to weaken him enough for Claude and Byleth to best him in combat when he was the only opponent left standing on the battlefield. Weakened by the dark magic channeled through Thyrsus, defenses shattered by the magical bolt of Failnaught, and his body torn asunder by the power of a god – the Sword of the Creator – Nemesis fell to Byleth’s final mighty swing, crumbling to dust under the golden light of dawn cracking over the horizon, bathing that scene in a glow that can only be described as the glorious dawn of a new Fódlan.

Now, with the war over and with nothing to do, Lysithea found herself simply taking in the sights of the place that had grown to become her home, lost in her thoughts all alone. It was unusual for her to get so sentimental, but after what felt like years of struggling every day, Lysithea admits that it’s a nice change of pace from her usual hustle and bustle. Finding herself outside of her dorm room, right by the greenhouse and fishpond, she decides to take a stroll around the monastery while recounting her days as a student of the Officers Academy.

Always pressed for time, she was all over the place, diving headfirst into every lecture that needed to be attended to, every book that needed to be read, every training session that needed to be taken, every chore that needed to be done. It was tiring, but being with her friends from the Golden Deer, and those from the other houses who would eventually transfer into their house, made it worth it.

Walking to the dining hall, she is reminded of the special meals that she shared with her classmates and the Professor at his invitation. Smelling the wafting scent of meat cooking in the kitchen brings back memories of Raphael and Leonie stuffing themselves silly after their victory in the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, which makes her sick to even remember the aftermath of that night’s feast.

Lysithea exits the dining hall through the side entrance by the courtyard before she can get any queasier from remembering Raphael and Leonie’s _healthy_ appetites. It is funny, and she lets out a little giggle.

The courtyard reminds her of the time the Professor conducted a dance class with the intention of practicing the students of the Golden Deer for the Ethereal Moon’s grand ball and choosing a representative for the White Heron Cup. Flayn ended up representing the house, and even managed to win the Cup over Dorothea by the smallest of margins.

The classrooms fill her mind with memories of long days, listening to Professor Byleth’s intriguing lectures, and discussing each month’s assignment with their unassumingly reliable and talented house leader, Claude. The desks have remained the same, and she sees images of a younger Lorenz arguing with Claude, with Hilda giggling by their house leader’s side, arms slung around his. After the march to Enbarr, Claude and Hilda stopped making a secret of their blossoming love; Lysithea wonders, _is it possible that those two have always had crushes on each other from our days in the Golden Deer?_

Distracting herself from that thought, the reminiscing gremory’s mind wanders to the knights’ hall and the stables connected to it, just beyond the reception hall. She doesn’t harbor any particular attachment to the place, but she does remember spending time in the stables with Marianne, who was very fond of animals in the stables for a group task. There, she taught Marianne to be more assertive while Marianne taught her about animals with the help of a particular horse she had named Dorte.

Lysithea leaves the courtyard, walking over to the reception hall to continue her daydreaming of distant school days.

The reception hall’s large chandeliers are impressive as always, and with the war finally over, they fill the hall with a joyful atmosphere that she had not felt in the air since the grand ball. At the time, she merely indulged her male housemates in dance as a social grace, and frankly, she had thought the ball was a waste of her time. As a result, she left the ball early, only to find Byleth at the Goddess Tower later that night.

She didn’t share a dance with him, only exchanging a few words with him that night, but that hadn’t bothered her then, as she had not seen Byleth as anything more than her Professor, and neither did Byleth see her as anything more than his student.

Romance was the furthest thing from both their minds.

Now, however, she must admit she would like to know how it would feel to lock gazes with Byleth, his perfect face illuminated by the light of a thousand burning candles like a thousand little suns in the chandeliers above them. She would like to know even more desperately how Byleth’s hands feel against her, one hand holding hers and the other under her shoulder blade, guiding her in a dance...

And perhaps, she would like to know how those hands feel against her bare skin, guiding her in something _more_ than just a dance. Blood rushes to her cheeks, causing her to blush and fluster at the thought.

Five years later and romance is no longer just a distant afterthought in her mind.

The thought reminds her that she would soon be returning to Ordelia territory to take care of any remaining business for her father before ceding their territory to the United Kingdom that would be formed after all of the roundtable talks with Fódlan’s noble houses, which would be headed by the Grand Duke of the Alliance, Claude von Riegan. She would soon have to talk to Byleth about these feelings of romance.

 _As of late, my feelings for Byleth have intensified, and this feeling is one that I can only call love... I’m sure of it. But does he feel the same way about me? I think he does, but I must know for sure. I wonder where I can find him_ , Lysithea thinks to herself, as she moves through the building thoughtlessly, her feet bringing her to the library, as if by instinct.

When she comes to, she’s at the library, where she spent hours upon hours poring over books and studying magic. It was the place where she found the most comfort – it was quiet, where she was surrounded by tomes that would help her get stronger and get her closer to her goals, away from prying eyes. It was also the place where Edelgard once chanced upon her, tired from cleaning the shelves and reshelving the heavy books, which would start one of her most fulfilling friendships in the academy.

She closes her eyes, and sees herself sat down on one of the tables in the library with Edelgard and Linhardt, speculating about the nature of Crests. She winces at the thought of Linhardt, who was the only Eagle to remain loyal to Edelgard.

The scene shifts, and she sees herself sharing tea with Edelgard in her room, talking about their shared past and their suffering. Then, she sees herself and Edelgard talking idly in the courtyard outside the classrooms, sharing a meal with the Professor in the dining hall, and then... she sees Edelgard apologizing to her the day before they descended the Holy Tomb.

Her heart twangs for Edelgard, dear friend turned into bitter foe. They exchanged looks of pain and sadness in their last encounter, each one harboring their own regrets when they were faced against each other in that throne room. She regrets that she could not change the Emperor’s mind, that their ideals and methods could not be reconciled, and that she could not lead her away from the bloody path she had chosen.

Lysithea could not stain her hands with the blood of a friend, and Edelgard, wanting to spare her and the other Eagles that had defected to the Professor from that pain, asked him to end her life. Later that night, after the army took the capital, when she and Byleth were alone, Lysithea buried her face in Byleth’s chest, clutching at his robes as she cried like a child, while he shed his tears silently. In the end, neither she nor Byleth could save Edelgard.

Tears threaten to spill over her watering eyes and trail down her cheeks. She feels her heart ache and her throat catch at the painful memories that had dug themselves out of her mind. Breathing deeply, she stops her tears from flowing and thinks to herself, _calm yourself, Lysithea. Edelgard would not want you to shed any more tears than you already have._ After regaining composure, Lysithea leaves the library, and exits the building out onto the bridge to the cathedral.

There, she finds Ignatz with his easel and canvas, mixing colors on his palette. He appears to be painting the monastery cathedral, and seems to be absorbed in his work, so she decides to leave him be. After all, she doesn’t want to disturb someone so focused on their work. _He’s always seemed unreliable, but he’s a capable sniper, and at least when it comes to painting, Ignatz is_ more _than competent,_ Lysithea catches herself thinking.

Lysithea walks past the absorbed painter, when she hears a voice from behind her followed by the sound of jogging footsteps, “Hey! Lysithea! Wait up!”

She turns around, and it’s Ignatz, who apparently noticed her passing by. _So much for leaving him to complete his painting, I guess,_ Lysithea mutters under her breath.

Speaking audibly this time, she asks “What is it, Ignatz? I’m sorry if I had obstructed your view of the cathedral. I had left you alone, thinking that you would want to paint uninterrupted. I hope I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

Ignatz smiles in his usual way, “Oh no, it’s quite okay! Actually, Professor just passed by here a while ago, and he asked me to tell you to meet him at the Goddess Tower if I happened to run into you.”

Her heart skips a beat. _Could it be that he was thinking about me? With the war now over... No, no, it might be something else. Find out first before you hurt yourself making an assumption,_ Lysithea think, cautioning herself in her mind.

“Did he say anything about why he wanted to meet me, Ignatz?”

“I’m sorry, but he didn’t. Only that he wanted to meet you at the Goddess Tower. Anyway, I’d better get going if I want to finish this painting before I depart the monastery for my travels!”

“That’s okay. Thank you for telling me, though.” Lysithea tells Ignatz, who has already turned around and started jogging back to his easel and canvas, clearly lost in his art once again.

 _Maybe he_ was _thinking about me! What was it they said about couples making a vow at the Goddess Tower, again? That those who made their vows at the Tower would be bound by fate to be together? Could it really be...?_

Lysithea can feel her cheeks burn bright red as she thinks about the prospect of Byleth asking her to make a vow with her at the Tower, as her steps get faster and faster without her noticing.

The cathedral around her melts into a dream, and she is brought back once again into her memories. But these are memories of love, memories _filled_ with love. These are memories of Byleth, memories filled with Byleth. Her vision floods with sights of her with Byleth sharing joyful moments, painful moments, funny moments, tender moments... In her heart, she feels her love for Byleth magnifying, the way she first felt the kindling of affection for the professor amidst this terrible war. In her recollection, she is taken to 9 months ago, in the Ethereal Moon of 1185, the chaotic day of their class’s appointed reunion.

* * *

Lysithea was hoping for a peaceful welcome back to a quiet, if dilapidated Garreg Mach Monastery after spending the better part of the past weeks weaving through Imperial-faction Alliance territory with her companions and classmates, Marianne and Raphael, to get to the monastery. It would have been nice to take a breather from the long trek before she reunited with the rest of her classmates, but unfortunately for her and her companions, however, it seems that they would not be able to enjoy such a luxury as they could hear the sounds of battle as they continued along the ascent to the monastery.

Five years prior, the Golden Deer house made a promise to reunite on the day before the Millennium Festival. They were cutting it close as it was already the dead of night before the appointed day, but against all odds, she and the rest of her classmates, who are already neck-deep in a battle against the thieves who had made a den of the derelict monastery, made it to the monastery. Lysithea scans the battlefield for the original members of the Golden Deer, and is enthralled to see that all of her friends are still alive and well. After the battle, she would have so much to catch up on.

Their reunion was nothing short of a miracle. But as she scans the battlefield once more to decide how she could best make use of her magic to aid her classmates in the fight, she spots a figure she was not expecting to find.

Fighting by Claude’s side was a miracle. A _true_ miracle. The green-haired half-deity she had thought to have died after the monastery was taken and its inhabitants were driven away by the Empire five years ago. Byleth, who looked the same way he did just before his sudden disappearance, was fighting in near-perfect condition.

“Wow, it’s you! Here I thought you were dead all this time.”

A thought forms in her mind as she watched her former Professor intently, the latter cutting down thief after thief with perfect grace. _I see his eyes are just as intense, his hair just as bright, his technique just as precise, and his face just as dashing._

Even so, a storm of emotions was starting to brew inside of her. She was confused: seeing Byleth alive and well filled her with amazement and hope, joy and relief, but also anger and frustration... and longing? _Wait, what did I just think? Did I just think him_ dashing _?_ A heat rises to Lysithea’s cheeks at the thought, but before long, she decides to throw herself into the fray, casting her spells upon the unprepared cutthroats who had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of her Miasmas.

 _I shall process this later, but for now, I must help them clean up,_ thought Lysithea, continuing to lend her aid to her friends.

The battle was long and lasted well into the night. By the end of it all, the sun had started to rise, and dawn had broken over the monastery, bringing each one of the Golden Deer new hope. Just like old times, as students of the Golden Deer house, they found themselves huddled together over their house leader and Professor.

It felt nostalgic, and she was more than happy to relive a part of her academy life that she’d missed ever since she returned to Ordelia territory five years ago. Being with her classmates, huddled together with Claude and Byleth was invigorating, and she had rediscovered a hope for the future that she didn’t know was still in her.

It was almost as though she was a student at the Officers Academy again, and she was happy and relieved for it, like she was no longer resigned to just trying to keep the Imperial forces from destroying Ordelia territory, like she and her classmates now had a shot at the futures that they wanted.

Still, nothing could change the fact that they weren’t students anymore, and each one of them had been forced to take upon the responsibilities of adulthood after the abrupt end of their time at the academy, all while a war was raging on across Fódlan. The nobles from the Golden Deer house had each begun to inherit their estates and their titles, and found themselves mired with the crushing responsibility of fending off the Empire while juggling internal conflict within the Alliance. The commoners, meanwhile, had begun to work toward knighthood, serving the noble houses of the Alliance without assurance that they would live to see the next battle.

It was then that she realized that standing before them weren’t just house leader and Professor anymore.

Standing before them was _Duke_ Claude von Riegan, who had inherited his title and his seat at the Alliance Roundtable after the sudden death of his grandfather, Oswald von Riegan, some months after the war broke out. Young as he is, Claude had done an outstanding job of maintaining the Leicester Alliance’s image as a united league of nobles, while also holding off the military might of the Empire, which continued its expansion over Fódlan.

Standing beside Duke Claude von Riegan was Byleth... 

She wasn’t sure what Byleth was to be, but she was almost certain that he would soon be something far more important, and that he would soon take up a responsibility that would change the tides of battle as the war would continue to rage on in the coming months. She did not know what title that would entail.

What she did know was what Byleth no longer was. Byleth was no longer their Professor, and he would not return to that role any longer, as they were no longer students. More importantly, there wasn’t even an Officers Academy to speak of for him to return to.

What Lysithea also knows is that Byleth disappeared. For five long years, he was nowhere to be found. The Knights of Seiros and a team of Alliance scouts that Claude had handpicked scoured Fódlan for the missing Rhea and Byleth and found nothing.

For five long years, the war raged on, all while he was nowhere to be found. She had made the perilous journey to the monastery to meet her classmates as they had all promised to do five years ago, and she did so if only to meet with her classmates and plan the Alliance’s last stand and to defend it to its last, as the situation with the Empire became increasingly dire.

But now, standing before them was Byleth, as if nothing had happened to him five years ago, as if he hadn’t aged a single day for five years, as if the war hadn’t taken its toll on him. Standing before her was Byleth, as if he hadn’t died and she hadn’t mourned his death.

For five long years, he was dead to Lysithea.

For five long years, she mourned his death.

Something inside Lysithea’s head clicks, as she starts to make sense of her feelings of frustration and anger. She was frustrated that the tears she shed for his death were for nothing, and angry that he could just defy death and turn up fine after he left her grieving. Granted, he didn’t know any of this, any of the pain or sorrow that she had to bear from that monumental loss of five years ago, but still. _It’s all so unfair,_ she thought.

And yet, for how frustrated and angry she was, she couldn’t help but to feel joy and relief in equal part. That he was still alive after all, that their time together had not been cut short, and that he had not broken the promise she had made him swear after all.

But there was more to this feeling of joy and relief that she could not identify or explain as to its cause or intensity, only that her stirring emotions were causing her chest to tighten and her heart’s pace to intensify, a feeling she could not decide whether pleasant or painful.

 _Get your emotions in order, Lysithea. You have no time for this. Best to just ask him directly and resolve this confusion,_ she convinced herself.

Haggard as she was from the long journey and the battle she was welcomed with, she resolved to talk to Byleth alone as soon as Claude adjourned the strategy meeting moving forward, which was to be held in the half-ruined cathedral.

She was only half-present for the first half of that meeting, however, with her mind – and her eyes – often wandering to Byleth while Claude brought the former up to speed as he spoke of his plans for the Alliance and the war. Furtive glances at Byleth became more brazen and more frequent as the meeting progressed, and – probably sensing the warlock’s probing eyes – Byleth turned to meet Lysithea’s eyes. She tried to avert her gaze quickly, but it was too late.

For the first time in five years, their eyes meet, sending shockwaves like Thunder through her heart. And then, he smiles at her. Thunder intensifies into Thoron, and she brings her face down to break eye contact and hide the redness rising to her cheeks which can only be described as the color of Bolganone tearing through earth.

Her mind blanks, and all she can feel is the heat of Agnea’s Arrow all over her face, on her cheeks, on her ears – everywhere. Lysithea is a blushing mess and the storm of emotions within her is thrown into even greater chaos, a tumultuous cacophony of mixed joy and anger, relief and frustration, and _longing_ that she hopes will be resolved when she brings herself to talk to Byleth after the strategy meeting.

 _Calm yourself. Calm yourself. Just get through this and get it over with! Focus on the meeting and keep your eyes away from him,_ she admonished herself quietly, bringing her full focus to Claude’s plans.

Halfway through the strategy meeting, as they were talking about restoring the monastery to make it their base of operations, Seteth and Flayn, the Knights of Seiros, and the two other professors arrived at the cathedral. Offering to help restore the monastery, and give their aid to the Alliance as the Knights’ goal was aligned with their own, familiar voices bounced off the cavernous interiors of the cathedral, giving off the impression that the monastery was breathing new life.

It was almost as though Byleth was the missing heart that it so needed to breathe anew.

The meeting ended after some time, and her housemates had begun to disperse, each one headed to their rooms to unpack and start cleaning the dormitory so that they could use the rooms to rest that night, while the Knights made for the different parts of the monastery to begin work on restoring the place to serviceable condition. Byleth, however, decided to stay, lingering in front of the altar, which now found itself crushed under the weight of the rubble fallen from the high ceiling of the cathedral.

Seeing her chance to talk to the Professor alone – no, he was no longer the Professor...

Seeing her chance to talk to _Byleth_ alone, Lysithea paced toward him, closing the gap that stood between them as she walked down the nave of the cathedral. Her footsteps echoed all around her, the sound gliding off of the smooth, stone floor, giving the air a sense of anticipation and a slight tinge of awkwardness.

The air of awkwardness is broken by Lysithea’s voice, which is assertive as it has always been.

“Ehem. May I have a word with you?” 

Byleth turns around to face Lysithea. In the five years since they had last seen each other, Lysithea had grown four inches, more than she had ever hoped to grow because of her stunted growth that had come as a result of her past. Though she was still smaller than Byleth, she could see clearly how she had matured fully into a woman, all while time appeared to have stopped for the man standing before her.

“Lysithea, yes. Of course.”

Byleth’s eyes soften, and the edge of his lips curl up into a small smile, the same way they always did when he was giving advice to his students, especially after his hair color changed.

Seeing that smile once again was a bittersweet sensation. Sweet to see that he hadn’t changed, and sweet to see that smile she thought was damned to stay only in her memories forever. Bitter to remember that she had often cried thinking about how she would never see him or that rare but precious smile of his that filled her with a joy she could not explain, and bitter to realize that his smile and that visage would far outlive her tragically shortened life...

The storm of emotions within her stirs, but she swallows it down in an attempt to talk to him normally. Lysithea closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and thinks to herself, _if I can just talk to him normally, I can dispel any confusion I have about these feelings. I don’t have any time for such fleeting trifles as romance. Not now, and certainly not for him. I just have to talk to him._

“Lysithea? Are you feeling okay?”

Lysithea opens her eyes and looks at Byleth’s concerned face, his eyes furrowed and his eyes so... tender, looking at her so caringly. She wondered if his eyes would look the same when he cast his gaze on the person he loved, if there was such a person.

She banishes the thought and snaps out of her stupor.

“Huh?” 

“You were standing still for a while without saying anything, and I was just wondering if you weren’t feeling well.”

“No, I’m quite okay, pro-” – Lysithea cuts herself off. _Do I still call him Professor? Or should I call him by his name now?_ Suspending her judgment, she clears her throat and continues, “I am feeling well. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Is now a good time?”

“Of course, go ahead. Is this about our lessons that were cut short?”

Byleth’s nonchalance creates a slightest tinge of annoyance to itch in her mind. _Really? That’s what you think this is about?_

“Or is it about your tutoring sessions in swordsmanship and authority?”

Annoyance grows into frustration. In the calm sea of her mind, the storm of emotions that she’s been trying desperately to keep at bay rears itself over the horizon, darkening the sky and obscuring the clarity of the line where sky meets water as rain begins to pour in the distance. _Please tell me you aren’t actually this dense._

“I know it’s been five years since, and I am sure you have learned much through your own study, but I am more than happy to continue teaching you should you wish it.”

Lightning crackles in the distance over the continually darkening sky. Thunder booms soon after. _Please, don’t try to act like nothing’s happened since._

“We still have quite a bit of material to go through, after all. I only hope you haven’t left me behind.”

Storm clouds roll closer and closer, painting the sky above pitch black. The whistling winds and the falling rain make the tides ever more turbulent. _I didn’t leave you behind,_ she mutters under her breath, unheard to Byleth.

“Though knowing you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did go ahead and completed the material on your own and left me behind. Though I reckon I’m still good enough to be your professor, right?”

The raging storm makes landfall.

All at once, the violent waves of the sea collapse onto the shore, creating chaos. Lysithea is no longer able to contain herself and the words that she’s held in come spilling out in a torrent of emotion.

“I didn’t leave you behind! You left us behind! You left _me_ behind!”

Tears begin to well up in her eyes, as though the storm in her mind was trying to escape through her tears. Byleth’s eyes widen in surprise, his brow furrows, and his mouth hangs open, speechless. Lysithea could not tell whether his expression was one of guilt or sadness... perhaps pity? Or maybe it was all of them at once. Regardless of what it was, to see him look at her with such indecipherable sorrow in those eyes filled her with dread and sadness, but her anger would not abate. Her words and tears kept spilling out, like the unrelenting waves beating upon a shore amidst a storm.

“You left me behind! After Jeralt died, I told you that I didn’t want to lose you! But still... Y- you _died_!”

Tears were now fully streaming down her pale cheeks, staining her delicate skin with streaks where her tears trailed. The heat of her words and her anger flushed her skin red. She could not stop now, not until Byleth heard everything that she had been keeping to herself.

Byleth stumbles to find the words. “Lysithea, I don’t know what to say, I -”

“Where did you go? Why did you go? Why did you leave!?”

“I – I don’t know. After the battle five years ago, I fell into a deep sleep, and when I awoke, five years had passed. But I’m here now, and I didn’t die... I. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.” Byleth looks lost, and his face is painted with confusion and hurt.

Lysithea sniffles, her tears continuing to pool, heavy tear falling after heavy tear.

“I saw you fall off that cliff... At first, I believed that you couldn’t possibly die and I patiently awaited news of your return after we evacuated the monastery. At Ordelia territory, I would spend each day waiting by the gates of our manor, desperately hoping that every passing messenger would bring news of your return.”

Byleth walks closer to Lysithea, reaching his hands out to her in the way that he would to pat Lysithea’s head and ruffle her hair to praise her after a good day of tutoring or to comfort her after a difficult battle which left her feeling defeated or less than adequate. Lysithea doesn’t budge, and turns her head away from Byleth, looking to the side, wiping away at her still falling tears.

“Days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into the passing Moons, and soon, I had learned to accept that you were dead. I grieved for you! I mourned your death!”

The green-haired man puts down his arms and looks away from Lysithea’s face. To see one of his former students in this state because of his disappearance colored his eyes with a sorrow that could not be painted, and it was his guilt to carry. Neither of them see eye to eye, nor do they see the pain written across each of their faces, but they can feel it, Byleth hearing it in Lysithea’s words which reverberated in the cavernous cathedral, and Lysithea sensing it in Byleth’s contrasting silence.

“Do you know how much I cried for you? How much it hurt me to think that I would never get to see you again? I thought that if I had tried harder at that battle that I might have been able to save you, or that it might have been my fault in part that you’d died.”

Lysithea brings her face up to make eye contact with Byleth. Her eyes are piercing despite her falling tears and her softened expression. Byleth feels her gaze pierce him and meets her gaze to accept everything she had to tell him.

“After I accepted the fact of your death and how hopeless the war seemed, I was ready to use what little time I had left in this world to secure my parents’ future, and then you just turn up in perfect fighting form as if you’d just defied death to help us turn the tides. Acting like nothing’s happened, like we can go back to the way we were before... acting like you’re still my professor and I’m still your student... like we have all the time in the world. Well, you’re not my professor anymore! It’s so unfair! I’m not immortal like you are! I don’t have time like you do...”

The last flash of lightning arcs through the greying skies, and thunder crackles soon after, signaling the calming of the sudden storm.

“I’m sorry, Lysithea.”

Byleth raises his hand to put it on Lysithea’s head in an attempt to soothe her, but before he is able to, she swats away his hand and lunges forward to bury her face in his chest, flinging her arms across his back to bring him into a tight embrace. Surprised by Lysithea’s sudden advance, Byleth stumbles a step backward, his arms awkwardly hovering over the beautiful woman clutching at him, unsure about whether or not to return the embrace.

The sound of her voice is muffled but certain.

“Hold me.” 

Uncertainty leaves him, and he returns the embrace, wrapping his left arm around her back while using his right hand to support her head and stroke her hair to soothe her.

“I am here with you now, Lysithea.”

In the warmth of his embrace, Lysithea finds peace, as the sun breaks through the dark clouds stirring in her mind, revealing the blue sea in its serene state. Her tears slow, but they do not stop as her tears change from those of pain and anger to those of joy and relief.

“Do you remember before the siege at the monastery five years ago? I asked you at the monastery gates if you would leave me, too. I made you promise that you wouldn’t die. Instead, you made me a promise that you wouldn’t leave me behind, and that we would have tea and cakes after we won the battle. I admit that it made me happy... happy enough that I yearned for nothing more than to see you again at the end of the battle. But I never did. Not until now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much hurt I’d caused you. I failed to keep my promise to you the first time, but I promise you I won’t leave you again, and I intend to make good on that promise.”

The air of awkwardness around them dissipates and is replaced with a comfortable sense of ease and understanding. Lysithea realizes that she hadn’t decided earlier on _what_ to call Byleth by, but deep inside, she knows full well what she wants to call him.

“I... I want to call you by your name. I want to call you Byleth. M- may I?”

Byleth chuckles and pulls his head away, breaking the embrace momentarily to look at Lysithea’s pleading eyes.

“You said it yourself earlier, Lysithea. I’m no longer your professor, so you are free to use my name on one condition.”

Lysithea pouts. “What condition is this?”

“I want you to make me a promise, too.”

The pout disappears from her face, making way for a curious expression, her eyebrows upturned. “Oh? This is quite a surprise. It isn’t like you to ask anything of... well, anyone, except for the occasional meal or tea party. What kind of promise do you want me to make to you?”

“Promise me you won’t leave me, either.”

In just a moment, with that one sentence uttered by Byleth, she makes sense of the remaining joy and relief that she could not explain. She makes sense of where those feelings were coming from. Because he disappeared for five years without any trace of those five years, she had essentially caught up to him. She was happy and relieved that she could now be with him. _Really_ be with him, not like student and professor. She had a chance to really, _really_ be with him... like man and woman...

_Like lovers?_

And there’s the longing.

She feels her heart do a little skip and blood rushes to her face, painting her face with an aggressive blush. _Then what is this feeling?_ , she wonders. _Is this truly a budding affection? It may be... but how does he feel? Don’t get ahead of yourself. You have a_ chance. _That’s all it is._ She tries to hide her face and her embarrassment by turning her head away from Byleth.

“W- what brought that on all of a sudden?”

“Listen.”

Byleth brings Lysithea back into the embrace, which relieves the blushing mess. _Thank the goddess he doesn’t have to see me blushing like this,_ she thinks. With his right hand, he guides Lysithea’s head, bringing the left side of her face to rest against his chest. _Did he tell me to listen? Does he mean his heartbeat?,_ she asks herself in her head. Pressing her ear to his chest, she listens for the beating of his heart. Nothing.

Relief turns into bewilderment.

 _That can’t be right..._ She presses harder, sharpening her focus and her listening. _One, two, three, four..._ She counts, supposing that his heart might just be weak... _nine, ten, eleven, twelve..._ Still nothing.

Bewilderment turns into alarm.

There is no heartbeat. Byleth has no heartbeat.

“You have no heartbeat. H- how is this possible?”

“I have been without a heartbeat since I was born. My father wrote so in his diary. Rhea must have done something to me as a newborn child in order for me to live... But in exchange, I displayed no emotion and I shed no tears, either.”

Removing her ear from his chest, she looks up at Byleth, whose eyes are painted with a sadness she had not seen from him before.

“I... never knew.”

“Only Rhea, Claude, you and I, and perhaps Seteth, know. Truth be told, it never bothered me, and my apparent lack of emotion or expression didn’t bother me, either. At least not until I entered the monastery and started teaching. Bit by bit, I started to feel more and more, until finally, I was given power by the goddess. After I gained that power, I felt all sorts of emotions with the most incredible vividness that I didn’t know was possible.”

Byleth looks deeply into Lysithea’s eyes.

“When I woke up from my slumber today, I was so worried that you and your classmates might have died, that you might have left me behind. I was so anxious. And I’m still anxious. I’m afraid that all the people I’d grown to love might someday leave me, immortal but alone.”

His sorrow is deep and vast, like endless space, like suspended time.

“I don’t know if I truly am immortal, but if the stories about the Saints are to be believed, then my life has been prolonged at the very least. I’d never thought this before, but the thought of being left alone is... terrifying. So... promise me that you won’t leave me?”

Her heart catches in her throat. Could she make the promise? Knowing that her Crests have robbed her of most of her life? Could she really make the promise, knowing that she could not keep it? Somehow, she knew that if she didn’t make the promise now, that she would lose any chance she has to be with Byleth.

Even if she was mistaken about Byleth’s feelings for her, she was still too selfish not to. Even if it was just a chance, even a slim one, she would still make the gamble.

“I promise I won’t leave you,” she lies. Inside her head, she curses herself, _you selfish woman._

Byleth tightens his embrace.

“Thank you, Lysithea.”

Lysithea sheds a single, quiet tear, even when she thinks she’s already cried everything she had left to cry. Just as Byleth is about to break the embrace, she tightens her clutch on Byleth’s robes, and pressing her body closer to his.

“C- can we stay like this a little longer?”, Lysithea pleads.

Without a word, Byleth smiles down at Lysithea and indulges her. The two stayed motionless in that tight embrace for a long time, letting the sky peeking through the monastery’s ruined ceiling change color from bright blue to blazing orange before they parted.

Unbeknownst to either of them, in that embrace, the seeds of love were first planted in each of their hearts. 

* * *

The blazing orange glow of the treasured memory fades from the love-struck gremory’s vision to make way for the ethereal pink sky which painted the Goddess Tower with an otherworldly glow. There she was, in front of the Tower’s antiquated structure, ridden with overgrown vines and foliage, which gave it an oddly romantic aesthetic. There she was, and although she was not entirely certain of Byleth’s intention behind inviting her to the Tower, she was ready to make a vow.

Inside the Tower was Byleth, the man she loved.

She made her way in, climbing up the stairs leading out to the balcony where lovers often rendezvoused. The balcony gave way to a breathtaking view of the colorful sky above and sprawling Fódlan below, but the real view was the handsome demi-god who called her to this rendezvous.

There he was. Byleth stood on the balcony, awaiting her, also ready to make a vow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, the angst in this chapter... I was actually in pain, writing Lysithea go through so much hurt from the loss of Byleth. ;-; I hope it was worth it, and I do hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> The inspiration for this chapter was Lysithea's headstrong and assertive personality. I wanted to breathe life into her character in a way that didn't paint her as just a magical prodigy cake-loving baby. I wanted to respect how assertive, decisive, and rational her character can be while balancing those aspects of her personality with her inexperience in processing emotions of romantic attachment and love with the way I built up her thought process and emotions leading up to her dialogue lines and her outbursts. I feel like it's a key part of what makes Lysithea so compelling that's often overlooked. I really hope I was able to do her justice because I don't want her to just be some token for Byleth's affection that he needs to save. I want her to also play an active part in this story!
> 
> I also teased Lysithea's friendship with Edelgard and Linhardt in this chapter... Will either of the two be playing major parts in this fic? How does the late Edelgard fit into the story, she being the only person with the same affliction as Lysithea? We'll see. ;) Without giving away too much for my plans for this story, I will say this much: Edelgard stays dead. No reanimation/resurrection in this fic. She will be back, and she will play some role in this fic, from beyond the grave and perhaps from a flashback. I: have many thoughts. As usual, feel free to leave any comments! Feedback is appreciated, and I would love to hear from my beautiful, beautiful readers.
> 
> ***  
> One last thing: I want to address some things in this fandom and the fic. **[TW: sexual harassment, sexual assault, grooming]** As of late, a prominent content creator in the fandom has been outed by multiple victims as a sexual harasser. Among the slew of issues and allegations he's been alleged in, grooming is one of them. Using his position of influence over fans to solicit suggestive pictures and initiate flirting, etc. _I stand firmly with the victims and support and believe them. I believe there is no place for such disgusting behavior in this fandom, and I want to help in keeping this a safe place for everyone._
> 
> I can understand how people would be put off by this ship given the age difference between Byleth and Lysithea, so I want to treat this issue with as much tact and sensitivity as possible in my writing. I want to begin by saying that I do not believe that the relationship between Byleth and Lysithea is one of a predatory kind, or one that was fostered through grooming. In the canon of the game, no romantic development happens between Lysithea and Byleth pre-timeskip (at least, in the English localization which I played), and all romantic overtones in their relationship begin after the timeskip, after Lysithea has had the chance to mature and match Byleth's own emotional maturity (given that Byleth essentially died and stagnated in his growth for 5 years). I have kept this the same in the way I have written this chapter.
> 
> My personal headcanon is that Byleth himself feels nothing romantic for his student love interests until after the timeskip and the only reason why he is able to foster romantic feelings or marry any of his former students is because of the unique nature of the timeskip where he essentially dies and halts in his emotional growth. I will continue to write and characterize Byleth in this way, so although Lysithea may have felt attraction for Byleth before the timeskip, Byleth does not feel attraction for Lysithea until after timeskip. This way, the development of this relationship in particular does not form as a result of grooming or Byleth using his position as professor to exert pressure over Lysithea, his student. Regardless of how I may justify this, I understand that there will still be fans in the fandom who will still not be comfortable with this ship, so if any of you make it here, know that I am trying to treat this sensitive matter with as much tact as possible. If you don't like what I'm writing, please, you are free to click off. _tl;dr: antis dni_


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